


Slip

by spooksquid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Depression, Gen, Lyrical references, Original Fiction, Personification, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooksquid/pseuds/spooksquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last few beats of a heart never meant to prosper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip

“I know,” she breathed just moments before the knife slid silently through her windpipe, flashing a sharp pain through her throat. She choked, gagged, though she stayed silent as the knife as tears pushed past her thick lashes with all their might. They crept down her cheeks, as if unaware that they glared the very same yellow of the light sitting oh-so callously in the middle of the ceiling; keeping to himself while he observes, day in and day out.  
 _‘I know’ is never good enough._  
“I- I’m _sorry_.” The knife twisted, her heart wrenched and the blade jerked up, caught in the thick muscle that she called her tongue and pressed through the back of her throat. She heaved, her breath finally able to leave--though it caused her pain beyond her years.  
 _Convulse_.  
Tears dripped from her now glistening face and landed ever so neatly on the sweater that sat over her heaving bosom, leaving perfectly circular, dark spots across the soft, brown surface. She inhaled and the knife slid down as if in-sync with the oxygen, and new pain split her thoughts. She gasped, if it could even be called that, shuddering, and coughed. Her tears sprayed across her lap, and the annoyed, disgusted tsk! that was fired from her companion- her sun, her life, her muse- shot her straight through her chest.  
The knife was jostled and with a forceful exhale, the blade twisted sharply and she could breathe no longer. All her air was gone, she was sinking. Bricks were set, one by one, atop her shoulders, atop her back when she finally collapsed, and she retched.

Collecting the last dregs of her courage, lingering timidly at the darkest pit, she arose with quivering hands. Weak fists were balled up and spread, spasming, and she approached her love. With all the strength she could manage she leaned over the back of the tall chair, a tremulous hand resting on its wing, and placed a full-hearted, tear-laden kiss upon the flow of beautiful waves that sat before her.  
Lingering, head low and eyes heavy, just a moment more, she breathed words that only her love would hear--not that god-awful yellow light that so rudely revealed her embarrassingly uninhibited tears. She couldn’t trust that damn thing anymore, but she comforted herself with the simple idea that she wouldn’t have to be held hostage by it’s rays any longer.

The hardwood was gone, there was nothing under her bare, chilled feet, and she simply floated out of the room. The hall slipped by, everything was nothing to the pain she felt as the knife slowly sank through her neck, resting like an anvil in the dip between her collar bones, and she was in the bathroom.  
The tile was cold, the feeling startled her into pseudo consciousness and she gently--to maintain her polite silence--closed the door behind herself. Her hands then ceased to shake, and she almost felt safe. The knife dropped to the floor with a dull throb.  
Two frigid steps to the cabinet and she was slipping her plump, pink fingers past the white-painted door. It took her now deft hands only a moment to brush the soft, plastic tool- an old, old acquaintance, and as she pulled it out she easily slipped the casing off of the truly important parts of her dear old friend.  
Metal glinted.  
Two steps to the tub and she carefully placed her new friends in a row on the lip of the hard, white basin. The curtain drew back, screaming in protest when it realized her intentions. She paid it no mind, though, and leaned her tender, sore body over the bathtub’s edge and pried the faucet to life.  
It only took a few seconds of her delicate hands under the warm water for the trembling to awaken. She allowed herself to swallow as she straightened up and without warning, the knife slipped straight through her adam’s apple. It twisted ever so slightly, and a shallow breath snaked into her lungs as she slipped her sweater over her head.  
The heavy material sank to the floor. Her hands quaked as she gripped the lip of the tub and stuck her legs in. The heat took a moment to breach the dark jeans that were stuck securely to her person by the heavy water slowly filling the tub. She sat herself down, pulled her knees up, and watched the water readjust. She inhaled again, and the knife twisted- just as she allowed her lower lip to quiver.  
Her new friends.  
She slowly picked up the biggest of the brothers, and smiled a false, wet smile in greeting. But, luckily, he did not judge and took her greeting warmly and returned it with a kiss.  
It hurt, but he whispered promises of soon-to-come relief, whispered that he’d make it better.  
He kissed her again and she blushed. He kissed her again and the water, having risen just enough to have a startlingly decent a view of the exchange, quickly blushed too.  
She closed her heavy eyes in deep embarrassment- only a second, though, for she wanted to see the brother’s next kiss; a deep one, wet and passionate.  
She whispered her thanks, her appreciation, her gratitude, as he kissed her again.  
Her head tipped back against the wall beside the very bathtub she sat in, and her quivering lips split, and she took a hesitant breath- the knife slipped from her throat and fell into the water with a defeated sigh.  
 _You get what you deserve_.


End file.
